My pride and my grief: For my sister...A Jaime Lannister Story

Ch-21:- Discoveries

Notes:- Hey, everyone.

Um, canon fail, kinda. In this universe, Aerys's mother in named Shaena, where in canon, she's named Shaera. I dunno why, okay? Shaena fits better in my headcanon... Note on ages:- The twins are two by the end of the chapter, there's a four month difference between them and Shaena, Cynthia and Rhaegar are eight, again, by the end of the chapter, and Lewyn is 23. Aemon is around, um, 70, I think. Also, can you guys suggest me other POV characters?

The cawing of a raven woke Aemon from his slumber. As he grew older, he needed less rest, it seemed. Lately, all his dreams were nightmares. Nightmares of Egg being burned to cinders. The ghost of his brother's laugh echoed in his head, the boy sitting on the mule named Maester, straw in his mouth. The vision dissolved into one of an inferno.

He sighed. What had happened cannot be changed, he told himself, reaching for his letter. He almost recoiled at the familiar seal. The Targaryen Seal. The Royal Seal. My family's seal. Clydas, his steward, broke the letter open, skimmed over the heading, and handed it to Aemon. 'For you, Maester,' he whispered. Aemon took the letter, peered at it.

Dear Maester Aemon, it began, in an elegant yet childish penmanship. I hope this letter found you in good health. Everything is well, here at the Red Keep. Father and Mother are very happy because Shaena is finally here. Shaena? Shaena was Egg's daughter. She was dead now, wasn't she? Increasingly confused, he turned to his letter again.

Father says he named her after his mother, Grandmother Shaena. I just want to know you better, Maester. I'm rather confused why no-one knows you at court. I asked lots of people. Really. Can you tell me something about ravens? No-one knows anything about them, either. Is the Wall very big? I'll come there one day if Father allows me. Why do Maesters wear chains? Aren't they uncomfortable?

Chuckling, Aemon twisted his chain of links. The letter ended with, I'm sorry, Maester, I'm bothering you, am I not? Everyone says that if I ask questions.

Rhaegar

Rhaegar. The Prince of Dragonstone. Shaena's grandson. My great-grandnephew. It was strange to him that this unexpected contact from his distant family felt easy, all of a sudden. As easy as a child's innocent grin. As Aemon went about his chores, he felt like himself for the first time in years.

Tywin Lannister sat at his place in the Small Council, while Lord Alyn Corbray, Master of whisperers, rose. 'Your Grace,' he addressed the King hesitantly. Aerys, who had recovered most of his charm after the birth of his daughter, turned to Lord Alyn attentively. 'Your Grace, there are rumors that Dorne is trying to leave the Realm-' Aerys surged to his feet, the telltale gleam of madness in his eyes. 'Rumors, indeed! Our overmighty vassals must be brought to heel. Even the Sun bows to the Dragon! The Dornish might have forgotten that, but we will not abide it!'

Tywin took a step forward. 'Your Grace-' Violet, feverish eyes stared at him. 'A hostage. A highborn hostage. Is that not what you did, Tywin? When you brought the Westerlands back into Lannister control. Preferably a close relation of the Princess...' His voice trailed off. Tywin stiffened. This wan't going to end well...

This isn't good, Tywin mused again, looking at the young man kneeling on the grass, saying his vows in a deep, clear, voice. Prince Lewyn Martell was raised up by Lord Commander Hightower, the newest member of the Kingsguard. Princess Arielle was not pleased, he knew. She had made that much clear to Joanna. But, the King's will prevailed, and here they stood.

Prince Lewyn Martell, noted for his valor in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, fervent adviser against the secession of Dorne, was naught but a glorified hostage at King's Landing. For a moment, Tywin felt a jet-black gaze directed at him. I know, it seemed to say.

Rhaegar stared, wide-eyed at the investiture of Prince Lewyn Martell into the ranks of the White Cloaks. He'd looked around for Princess Arielle, for Elia and Oberyn, but they were nowhere to be found. He didn't know why they hadn't come. It was a great honor Father had bestowed on House Martell, but the Dornish were absent.

Feeling a nudge, Rhaegar turned, muffling an indignant exclamation. 'Cynthia!' Rhaegar glared at her. 'Rhaegar,' she addressed him, glaring right back. Lowering her voice, she whispered, 'I think Princess Arielle isn't pleased. I heard Mother tell Father.' Incredulous, Rhaegar whispered back, 'Why not?' Cynthia shrugged. It was a mystery.

Arielle Martell was, indeed, quite furious. At a stroke, Aerys had robbed her of her right hand, and nullified Dorne as an enemy, for the moment. Lewyn would say that any sacrifice for Dorne was worth it, but she wasn't quite ready to sacrifice him just yet. Making an ancient Rhoynish sign for protection, she prayed, 'Warrior, protect my brother. He's one of yours.'

Cynthia was enjoying life a King's Landing. Rhaegar was a good friend, Arthur was here, too, with Prince Lewyn. Good sword practice, she thought. Her siblings were growing fast, diverging further in personality. Cynthia was having the time of her life here at the capital. 'Cindy!' A high, demanding voice roused Cynthia from her ruminations. 'Cindy, come!' Cynthia smiled at her younger brother. 'Cindy come,' she agreed.

By all accounts, the tourney was a splendid one, Rhaella was told. She couldn't enjoy the beauty of it, caught as she was in her own life. Gods, I beg you, spare my daughter that fate. Shaena was an innocent babe, she had done no wrong. To top it off, her husband persisted in his erratic decisions about affairs of state. Making Dorne an enemy was unwise, she knew. Yet, there was sense in holding it under their thumb.

She looked up at the Dornish Prince, his squire standing to attention behind him. A serious boy, that one. What was his name? Ah, yes, Arthur Dayne. He was much like Rhaegar, she thought. Turning her attention back to the Prince, she called out 'Prince Lewyn?' The man turned to her, smiling ruefully. 'Ser Lewyn, Your Grace.' 'No,' replied Rhaella. 'You are, and always will be, a Prince, Ser, My Prince.' To that, he shrugged gracefully.

'Yes, I suppose so, Your Grace. I remain Dornish to the end,' he lilted, his voice oddly sing-song, in the Dornish drawl. Rhaella felt an involuntary frisson. What will you do if you had to choose between your blood and your King? Will you be a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard or remain Dornish to the end? She asked silently. His onyx eyes gave her no answers.

Joanna laughed. The Queen's company was a pleasure and she was beginning to familiarize herself with the Red Keep. The twins had just turned two, and Princess Shaena about to follow them. She was a healthy child, if a little fussy, and Queen Rhaella was positively glowing with joy. But for the King's affections, all was right with the world.

Just then, the Maester entered, looking worried. 'Your Grace-,' he started, glancing furtively at Joanna. The Queen was deathly pale. Was something wrong? 'What is it, Maester?' Joanna prompted gently. His words came out in a rush. 'What we feared is true, Your Grace. The Princess is not of sound mind.'